


I Cannot Put the Notion Away

by NoOneKnowsIWriteThis



Series: An Ocean Away [2]
Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Letters, M/M, Much ado about comma placement, Post-Canon Cardassia, References to Shakespeare, but in a kinda flirty way?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-10
Updated: 2018-03-10
Packaged: 2019-03-29 13:29:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13928082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoOneKnowsIWriteThis/pseuds/NoOneKnowsIWriteThis
Summary: After the war, Garak and Julian have been exchanging letters. Julian seizes an opportunity to reunite.





	I Cannot Put the Notion Away

My dearest, Julian,

I remained on Cardassia as much out of my selfish wish to return home as my selfless desire to help. And yet I now find that the second motivation has eclipsed the first. As your Shakespeare would put it “I come to bury Cardassia, not to praise it.” My Cardassia is dead, and yet a new Cardassia struggles forth from its ashes.

Yes, you read that correctly, Doctor. I am referencing your beloved Bard. Bear with me. My heart is in the coffin there with Cardassia.

I've found my opinion on _Julius Caesar_ shifting. This change began years ago, but of course I saw no reason to mention it to you at the time.

Tain, like Caesar, was a once triumphant figure who couldn't see the treachery being plotted directly under his nose. At a stretch Dukat would be Cassius, the leader of the conspiracy with his lean and hungry look. Damar could be cast as Brutus, the tragic protagonist, manipulated by others. For myself, I suppose the role of Marc Antony would be fitting: one of Caesar's successors left behind to clean up the mess that everyone else has made. That said, if I'm Antony I'd rather avoid his later fate. Someone has to rebuild this world, and I dread to think who would play Octavius or who would serve as my Cleopatra in this metaphor that is rapidly spinning out of my control.

I'm afraid that my work takes up most of my thoughts as well as most of my time, but every time I receive a letter from you those burdens are ever so briefly pushed aside in favor of more pleasant memories.

I know that DS9 is less than a day's journey away, and yet it still feels too far. I wish you were closer so that we could visit and converse as we once did.

Write soon,  
Garak

–

My dearest Garak,

I'm sure if anyone were capable of rebuilding Cardassia single-handed, it would be you. Your tenacity and your resourcefulness would see you through, if nothing else. (And I did enjoy the Shakespeare.)

I'm doing everything in my power to help, though I'm afraid the influence of one Starfleet lieutenant on a once again minor outpost is incredibly limited. That said, I hope at least the knowledge of my support provides you with some comfort if nothing else.

Now I must turn your attention to a more personal matter. In your last letter, you opened with the phrase “My dearest, Julian.” I was wondering, did you intend to place that comma there? I recognize that Federation Standard isn't your native language and its grammar can be quite tricky, but there is a striking difference in meaning between “my dearest Julian” and “my dearest, Julian” and I have to admit this question has proven to be quite distracting.

Anyway, I have good news. There's a ship carrying medical supplies headed for Cardassia Prime that will be stopping at DS9. I've arranged passage with them and cleared some leave time with Nerys. I'll be helping to deliver the medical supplies, but after that I will be completely free and at your disposal.

I'm hoping you'll be able to make time for me. I would love to take advantage of this chance and talk to you in person rather than through letters.

There's no need to reply to this, since I should reach you before your response would reach me if you keep to your usual pace.

Yours,

Julian

–

Doctor,

I'm afraid I won't be able to make time for you. There are more pressing matters that require my attention.

Garak

–

Julian tried to ignore the knot of worry in his stomach as he thought over Garak's last message. Just two short lines from Garak had him feeling all twisted up inside. Of course, Garak didn't need to do much to dramatically impact Julian's mood if the way he was still turning over that damned comma was any indication.

Julian hefted his bag onto his shoulder as he walked away from the small Federation outpost and began walking through what was left of the city. It wasn't terribly hard for him to find Garak's small shack. The sculptures Garak had described in an earlier letter proved an excellent landmark. Yes, he would see Garak no matter what. He'd come all this way, after all.

There was no sign of Garak outside, either among the sculptures or around the shack, so Julian knocked on the door and waited. Then he knocked again and waited. Finally, after his third knock, the door opened.

Garak looked worse than Julian had even imagined. He'd known, intellectually, that Garak was facing terrible hardships, and yet in his mind Garak was still that pristine put-together figure that he'd been on the station, nothing like the image before him.

Garak's posture was slightly stooped, as if he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, which Julian realized Garak probably felt like he did. His scales looked dull and slightly brown, but that was because they were covered with a thin layer of dust, much like everything else. Garak's hair, which in Julian's mind was always shiny, slicked back, and not a bit out of place, was similarly dull and incredibly disheveled. Garak was dressed fairly similarly to the old days, Julian actually recognized the outfit as one that Garak had worn on the station, but it no longer fit as well as it used to, seeming to hang slightly off of Garak's body. And the clothes, like everything else, were covered in a layer of dust.

The worst part though was Garak's eyes. Instead of sharp, they looked somewhat dull and there was a swirl of emotions in them that Julian couldn't hope to read.

Instantly Julian knew that this was why Garak had sent that message. Garak hadn't wanted Julian to see him like this.

Julian swept Garak into a firm embrace, which was lightly, almost hesitantly returned.

“I'm so glad to see you,” Julian murmured.

He could hear the moment of hesitation before Garak replied “And I, you.”

As he pulled back, Julian abruptly remembered the bag hanging from his shoulder. “I didn't bring you much,” Julian announced apologetically, “but Quark happened to have some Delavian chocolates on hand, so I got a box of those for you.”

Garak looked at him strangely. “I thought I told you not to come.”

Julian smiled wryly. “You did. I came anyway.”

“Why?”

Julian's mouth opened, countless explanations on the tip of his tongue, but instead what escaped was “Was that comma intentional?”

Garak stared at him for a moment, clearly taken off-guard. Then he blinked slowly and began to laugh. Julian couldn't help but laugh as well because it was truly ridiculous. He'd traveled all this way to see Garak and instead of expressing anything he asked about a simple grammar choice.

In time, their laughter died down enough so that Garak could respond.

“What if it was?”

Julian forced himself to take a breath in order to properly form his answer, but he could already feel his face lighting up with joy.

“Then I think we should explore the meaning of that comma. Don't you agree, my dearest, Garak?” Julian deliberately gave the pause as much weight and emphasis as he could for something that would last a mere moment.

Garak smiled back at him, and then suddenly they were kissing. Julian had no idea who had initiated the kiss, it seemed as if they'd both surged together at the same instant, but it didn't matter. It didn't matter either that Julian's leave would end after a few days. For now they were together and they would make the most of every moment.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the Angelica and Hamilton parts of the song "Take A Break" from Hamilton.


End file.
